


How to Fool a Mindreader

by Notaspermanent



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Agnes is Agatha Harkness, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Post All-New Halloween Spooktacular!, Vision (Marvel) Dies, Vision comes back, takes place after episode 6, the episodes are too short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notaspermanent/pseuds/Notaspermanent
Summary: Wanda has extended the barrier, but Vision hasn’t woken up yet. Her children are on their own to discover the secrets of Westview.Meanwhile Monica Rambeau and Jimmy Woo are preparing to enter the hex.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	How to Fool a Mindreader

Vision didn’t wake up.

Wanda knelt beside him, the fabric of her pink tights stained green from the dew, shaking him and pleading in the language of a fallen country.

At a distance, Billy and Tommy watched. Neither twin was brave enough to take a step forward, to get close enough to assess the damage. A particularly shrill scream tore its way out of their mother’s throat, a wild and animalistic thing that made Tommy want to turn and run, but Billy had grabbed his hand and anchored him with surprising force. Blunt nails bit into his skin and the pain allowed him to pry his eyes away from his mother and father long enough to look at his brother. 

Billy’s face was twisted with anguish, tears silently flowing down his cheeks and his lower lip trapped between teeth that drew droplets of red thoughtlessly. His features were not painted with only shades of despair; there was something shining in his eyes, a light burning brighter than the blue festival lights above. His focus remained on their mother with an immovable and hard gaze.

Tommy couldn’t identify the source of all the emotions his brother’s face reflected and that made him all the more nervous. 

He took one last look at his mother, watching as she lifted a body that was far too limp. From where they stood, they couldn’t see her crying; couldn’t see the tears and pain nor the red glow of her magic as she focused it on her beloved. They could barely even discern her sobs, but Tommy knew that it was different for Billy. That he could see and hear more.

So, still holding his brother’s hand, Tommy obeyed his instincts and ran. 

He hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Once he’d taken the first step, there was a part of him thinking that he would keep running forever. That he’d run past the streets his mother forbade him from, an act of abnegation, and live out the rest of his days a blurry fugitive with his younger brother in tow. At the very least, Tommy thought he’d make it out of Westview, but suddenly he felt himself slowing and then stopping just in front of the town square. 

“Tommy!” a voice called. “Billy! Vision! I’ll even take your help popsicle! Can anyone hear me?”

“That’s Uncle Pietro,” Tommy gasped, noticing that Billy had stopped crying, but that strange light, that unidentified emotion was more present than ever. “We’re here!”

“Guys!” Pietro called again, somewhere to their left and the only voice among the still frozen square. “I need some help.” A gasp. “Wanda- ow- your mom, she got me good. I don’t think I’ve been hit this hard since I pissed off that Ivan Gorbachev kid in the orphanage.”

Outside the hex, the remnants of shield plus rogue agents Rambeau and Woo were treated to another cutaway featuring a cartoonishly chubby child with a bad Russian accent taking lollipop away from a white haired child before delivering a stomach punch that grounded the young speedster. Then the large boy lifted a ginormous leg, the scene cutting out before he brought his foot down upon Pietro’s face.

“Kid knocked one of my teeth out,” Pietro continued as the boys hesitantly followed the sound of their uncle’s voice. “Still got a gap from that.”

Tommy still held Billy’s hand. The urge to run hadn’t dissipated by much, but Tommy couldn’t leave his uncle alone.

Not if the man was hurt.

“This.” There was a cough, a wet and labored sound. “This might be a little worse than a missing tooth though.”

Behind a barrel of hay the boys discovered their uncle. He occupied a crater in the cobblestone. It was deeper than Tommy was tall and rubble was piled around the area. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like any of the townsfolk had been caught between Pietro and his crash. 

The festival lights shone too dimly upon his body for Tommy to be able to tell the depth of his injuries, but his left leg didn’t look right. The angle it was bent at was more unnatural than super speed or telepathy and there was something off about his outfit too. For a second, Tommy thought he had changed clothes. They’d started their trick or treating adventure off wearing matching costumes- silver and blue, but now Pietro matched Wanda.

He wore red.

“It’s blood,” Billy said.

“Mom,” Tommy started. “No way. Mom wouldn’t do this!”

She’d only pushed him, right? Not even that hard or so Tommy thought. 

Billy didn’t answer; only looked at him and Tommy thought he could almost read the words written upon his brother’s face, but he looked away just as quickly.

“We need to help him.” 

And just like that Billy let him go and was descending into the crater. Further worrying Tommy, the crater was even deeper than he’d first thought, at least twice his height. If Billy stood on his shoulders, he doubted the other boy would be able to touch the top without a good jump.

Closer, Tommy could see the sticky blood and hear his uncle’s ragged breath. He realized the man was close to death and that there was little he could do. 

He’d had this same realization mere minutes before, watching his mother cradle his father in the same manner she had done to Billy and Tommy weeks prior.

Spiraling, Tommy watched as Billy approached Pietro, kneeling beside him and looking at his chest without even the slightest hint that he was feeling squeamish. He noticed that it was caved in, even through two shirts, but his brother’s face was void of sorrow and fear, only determination and that emotion that Tommy still had yet to identify. 

Feeling as if their roles had reversed he approached his younger brother feeling very small. Hoping that Billy had a plan, he placed a hand on his shoulder, encouraging and thinking that if anyone could remedy this situation, it would be his brother. This, of course, was the same thing as saying that aloud to Billy.

Tommy had seen his mother use magic on occasion. It was red. Before tonight, before he’d seen his uncle drenched in the color, Tommy had associated it with warmth and comfort. Family and love. With his mother’s loving gaze and his father’s empathetic and kind words. 

But when Billy brought his shaky hands over their uncle, eyes squeezed tight in concentration; when his brother’s fingers began to emanate a blue light and the red on Pietro’s being shrunk from the extremities inward, Tommy found himself associating red with sentiments like pain and fear.

While the blue flooded his soul with an overpowering feeling of solace and safety.

• • • • •

“Darcy,” Woo said, clutching his phone with white knuckles. “Darcy, please, please. Just let your phone be dead. Call me back.”

He sighed and sank back into the passenger seat of their commandeered vehicle. Rambeau was due back any moment and he had been hoping to greet her with some good news. He desperately clung to the possibility that Darcy had been fast enough to procure a vehicle of her own; that the young doctor hadn’t been harmed by either SHIELD or Wanda Maximoff, but his brain was a traitorous thing. It kept pointing out just how low those odds were. 

Woo had managed to maintain a cheery disposition through even the worst times of his life, but now, it felt like they were circling the drain. Darcy had already fallen down that long and grimy pipe and he and Rambeau were going to be joining her any moment now. The only thing he couldn’t decide was if Wanda or Hayward was the one to flush them. 

He only hoped that the metaphorical toilet they occupied didn’t end up encompassing the entire earth. 

Hours passed and his anxiety rose and fell like the tide. Sometimes it was high and threatened to drown him. It was a powerful wave full of thoughts about guilt and death that had him gasping for air, but it dissipated into a mere dampness at his feet, an ache that was almost ignorable but not quite.

When Rambeau returned, morning light was on the horizon and Jimmy Woo had filled Darcy’s mailbox with increasingly anxious voice messages and now could leave no more. With nothing left to do but guard the car and watch the hex, he’d tried to listen to music, to exist outside of the moment, but he’d found it hard. He was happy to see Rambeau again, to be able to plan their next move and do something other than sit and wait.

“No word from Darcy?” Rambeau asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat, setting several grocery bags in the back.

“Not yet,” he elected to answer, a hopeful part of him refusing to admit that they would not hear from her.

Monica Rambeau looked at him, lips tight and eyes determined. “It’s okay, Woo. We’ll help her. All of them, even Wanda.”

Woo didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell if she was putting on a brave face for his benefit, but he desperately wanted to believe her.

So he did.

“Now,” Rambeau reached into the back and drew out a small box with a Stark Industries battery powered television. “There should be ‘reruns’ of last night playing in a few moments unless Wanda has altered her usual broadcast schedule. We need to figure out all we can before we break back in.”

Woo knew it made sense, but he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of more sitting, more waiting, more idle watching. This distaste must have been evident.

“Only thirty minutes right?” Rambeau asked. “That’s how long most of them- these episodes as Darcy called the broadcasts- are?”

Woo nodded.

“Well.” She turned to rummage through the other plastic bags in the back. “After this I have a feeling we won’t have much time to stop or rest, so we need to make all efforts to sustain our bodies now.”

She presented him with caffeine pills and an assortment of junk food.

Woo frowned at her choice in sustenance. He probably shouldn’t tell her he’s been gluten-free and vegan for the past ten years, right? 

“Killing two birds with one stone?” he said instead.

“Right,” she answered seriously. “Now start the ‘show.’”

• • • •

Pietro had taken the boys home.

Tommy had insisted on going back to his mother and father, practically begged for Pietro and Billy to accompany him, but had been relieved when Billy told him:

“Uncle Pietro is still in no condition to run. We have to get him home.”

Tommy had fought against it, not sure why. Was it for show? Was there a part of him that wanted to go back in spite of the fear? In spite of how every fiber of his being screamed at him to stay away?

He didn’t know. 

He knew Billy could feel his relief, could tell that he truly didn’t want to go back, but Billy didn’t bring it up. He only offered reasonable arguments for why they couldn’t and insisted that he needed Tommy’s help getting Pietro back to the house.

Tommy thought to himself ‘Thank god, I can trust at least one person.’ He wasn’t sure why he thought this, but it didn’t change the fact it was true.

Billy turned and, for the first time since night had fallen, smiled. “I trust you too,” Tommy heard, but Billy had not moved his lips. He found himself unsure of if his brother had spoken in his mind or if the feeling was shared so much that he’d simply imagined that it had been vocalized.

Together the boys supported their uncle. He slung an arm around each of their shoulders. While the blood was gone and his breathing had evened out, his leg was still crooked. Tommy wondered why Billy had been able to fix broken ribs and other injuries, but not their uncle’s leg. Billy didn’t answer.

Through townsfolk paused like a still frame, they limped their way home. 

After entering the front door, Billy’s hands began to glow again and suddenly Pietro was falling down. Tommy panicked, trying to catch him, but before his nose could kiss the floor, a blue light was levitating him to the couch. 

“What?” Tommy said. “You could have levitated that fatty the whole time??”

“Shhhh,” Billy said. “Don’t talk so loud, don’t even think so loud!”

“Why not?”

“You said you trust me, right?”

Tommy nodded. “Thought it, at least. Is Uncle Pietro okay?”

“I put him to sleep,” Billy said. He took a seat on the floor leaning his back against the couch. 

Billy patted the spot next to him, motioning for his brother to come over as if nothing were wrong. Growing increasingly frustrated, Tommy grit his teeth and clenched his fists at his side. “Why?” He took the spot, but only because his legs hurt from all the exercise he’d done today. Breaking the speed of sound made one’s calves ache. 

“I can explain, but I need you to think very hard about something else. It can be about mom or dad. What happened tonight. It can be about anything except about what I’m about to tell you.”

For the first time, Tommy noticed that Billy looked older. He realized that they had aged themselves up without realizing it. Their mother had stopped them from doing so when the grief and loss of Sparky had made them want to. Apparently they’d been unable to hold back when faced with the possible death of their father. Tommy focused on that. 

“Are you ready?”

Tommy nodded.

“Mom has everyone trapped here, we sort of knew that, I know, but it’s way worse than it seems. When I reached out with my telepathy, I heard three thousand voices screaming in agony. Mom took away their free will.” Billy took a deep breath and continued. “Also. Dad’s dead, he’s been dead for years and years. I know I told you I thought he was dead before, but that was before I had my powers. I know now. He was in pain,” Billy said this almost too quickly to be understood, his voice cracking with emotion. He might have looked somewhere between 12 and 15 but his eyes shone with the fear of a child who’d just been told about the boogeyman. 

Tommy tried hard not to process this.

“Mom doesn’t think we’re real. Neither does Pietro or dad. She thinks we’ll stop existing outside her magic field, that’s why she doesn’t want us to leave. But that’s not all-”

“This is getting hard,” Tommy interrupted. It was hard to keep his mind off of the suddenly precarious nature of their existence and also hard not to notice that Billy had called him Pietro instead of Uncle.

“Sorry,” Billy said. “Try your best okay? I can’t do this alone.”

Tommy moved on from the loss of their years, of their hastened and unlived childhood and into darker thoughts that made his eyes wet.

“Go.”

“There’s someone else here. Someone like mom.”

Tommy forced himself to think of his mother, of the way his father’s body was a limp piece of metal in her grasp. He felt a hot tear roll down his cheek.

“That’s why you can’t think. I can feel her trying to get inside my mind. I think I can stop her. I didn’t know that she was trying to get in until I heard dad. Now it’s all I can feel.”

A limp metal body, thirteen years passing in the blink of an eye, their mother’s angry cry. 

“She’s scratching at the door of my mind, yours too. She wants to control us. I don’t know why. She’s close by. Everyone far away from mom is still paused, but she’s close and even though she’s blocked me from her mind, I can still feel it moving. It’s like hearing a single engine running in a lot of parked cars.”

Tommy sobbed, keeping his mind away from everything his brother said. He saw red in his mind, a scarlet shade of sorrow.

“I can block your thoughts if I need to, but she’ll know I know about her. I’ve been protecting us on a subconscious level… I think? Hiding my own thoughts out of a need for privacy and keeping others from actually invading and controlling our family on instinct alone. If I start erecting walls to keep her out, she’ll know.”

Tommy shook his head, another sob choking him.

Billy smiled, lips tight. “You’re always going to be the cool twin, huh?”

Tommy managed to grin back through the salt of his tears. “You know it, nerd.”

“Whatever, I have a plan. You need to think that we’re going out searching for help. Think that we’re going out to find a mechanic or a doctor, someone to help dad.”

Tommy closed his eyes and focused.

“Great, now, we head out and search for the only car with an engine running. It shouldn’t be hard.”

Billy stood and headed for the door, he took one last look at their uncle. Tommy thought it looked like his brother had something else to say.

Billy opened his mouth then closed it. Whatever it was, Tommy decided he trusted him.

“Let’s go find help.”

• • • •

“Jesus,” Woo said through a mouth full of Cheetos. They’d just witnessed the children’s conversation, the television glowing in noticeably cooler tones before it cut to a commercial. Neither of the two thought it had anything to do with the change of televisions. 

Rambeau started the car.

“Wait,” Woo said. “What are you doing? There’s a whole other half left.”

“We need to hurry. This feed is already delayed by several hours, if those boys are right. If there is another person like Wanda in there, we can’t leave two children to battle them.”

Woo wanted to disagree. He wanted to point out how dangerous it would be for Rambeau to re-enter the hex or how she was the one who wanted to gather information, but he didn’t. Instead, he found himself nodding in agreement. He placed the television on the dashboard, allowing Rambeau to watch the rest of the broadcast from the corner of her eye as they drove towards their destination.

“So,” Woo said. “Do you think Hayward managed to revoke your privileges and rank before all that went down or do you think that you’ll be able to check out his secret project legally?”

“Wasn’t gonna find out,” she answered. “We were going to grab it and run from the start.”

At that, Woo couldn’t help but smile, though it was quickly wiped away when the television resumed its regular programming. His eyes widened as did Rambeau’s when she glanced down. Her foot rested heavier on the gas.

“Hey,” he said. “Isn’t that?”

“Agnes?”

“That’s why we never identified her.”

• • • •

No sooner than the boys had left the house than did they run into their neighbor, seemingly out for a pleasant stroll amid a stagnant world.

“Hello there boys,” she greeted. “Strange night, huh?” She waved her hand in front of a frozen man. “Now, I never knew just how seriously our town took freeze tag!”

“Miss Agnes?” Billy asked hesitantly.

“You see,” she exclaimed, moving to jump in front of a young girl dressed as a ladybug. “Boo! Not even a blink. Not a one of them. Makes me wonder who the tagger is. I sure hope they don’t get me.” She gasped and eyed them warily. “It’s not one of you boys is it?”

“No,” Tommy answered. “No, we can’t play games right now.”

“There’s too much going on,” Billy agreed.

“Oh boys,” she cried as she drew closer. “Your eyes are a puffy mess. Drat! I wish I hadn’t left my purse at home. I never seem to have that devil when I need it and the rest of the time… well it’s just dead weight hanging from my shoulder. Or should I say Ralph’s!” She laughed.

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “We’re looking for help.”

“For our dad,” Billy supplied. “He’s not doing well.”

“You poor dears! I should have asked why you were crying before trying to fix your faces. You’re just such a hard pair to read, especially you Billy.” She pinched his cheek hard enough for him to have to rub it afterwards. “Take me to your father. I’ll help fix him up.”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other. Tommy kept his brain solely fixated on helping his dad by getting a doctor or mechanic. Bravely, he added ‘not a housewife.’

Agnes smiled down at them, a smile befitting her witch costume. “I’ll assure you boys, I’m perfectly able to help. Who do you think nursed Ralph every time he sprained his ankle or threw out his shoulder playing golf? Why little old me of course! Now let’s do as neighbors do and help one another.”

“Okay,” Billy said. “We’ll lead the way.”

Billy walked ahead of Tommy and Agnes. His pace quickened as he walked along the sidewalk in the direction that they had left their mother and father. Agnes turned and looked at Tommy over her shoulder, a wicked smirk upon her lips and then a pink bolt of magic flew from Agnes to Billy.

Tommy yelled a warning but it was too late. His brother fell to the ground before even a syllable reached him. He hit the pavement face first, a crack barely audible. Tommy ran towards her, but a pink light surrounded him, lifting him from the ground and squeezing his body painfully tight.

“Foolish children,” she said with a deeper voice devoid of cheer or pep. “Did you think that a child, no a baby mere weeks old could outclass me? If I wanted your minds,” she lifted Billy’s head by his hair. “I would have them.” 

Tommy saw the blood pouring from his little brother’s nose and could immediately tell from it’s crooked angle that it was broken.

“Now then,” she said. “Be good little children. Provide a much needed distraction for your dear mother and march home. Lie in your beds and do not rise until the morning sun hits your faces. When you wake, forget everything about your powers along with the secrets of today.”

Much to his horror, when his feet hit the ground, Tommy was unable to disobey. His body marched in time with his brother who coughed, breathing in the blood that ran down his chin, apparently unable to even wipe it away.

They arrived home quickly as they hadn’t made it beyond their neighborhood before Agnes had appeared, offering help. The two marched in silence, went upstairs, and climbed into their beds without taking off their costumes or covering themselves up.

They lay as stiff as boards with their eyes shut tightly, unable to be opened. 

Tommy’s mind was going a mile a minute. He could feel his heart pulsating in his ears. The child was unable to calm himself or even move into a more comfortable position. Every time he began to quiet his mind, he’d hear his brother’s labored breath and wet coughs. They sounded far too much like his Uncle Pietro’s dying breaths. 

Until morning light, he lay awake beneath the darkness of his own eyelids, worried that his brother might choke on his own blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1/2. Is anyone else going crazy waiting for the next episode?? I know I am.


End file.
